Amores I.6

Janitor — unworthy fate! — bound with the hard chain, move on its hinge the surly portal, and open it! What I entreat is slight — see that the door stand but half ajar, enough to receive me sidewise through the small approach. Long loving has thinned my frame for practices like this, and has made my body apt thereto by wasting away my flesh. Love it is that teaches me how to walk softly past the watchful guard; love is the guide that keeps my steps from stumbling.

Yet once I was ever in fear of the night and its empty phantoms; I marvelled at whosoever would venture abroad in darkness. Cupid laughed in my ear, with his tender mother, too, and lightly said : " You, too, shall become valiant! " And without delay came love — no shades that flit by night, no arms raised up to deal my doom, do I fear now. You alone I fear, too unyielding to my wish; on you alone I fawn; it is you who hold the thunderbolt can ruin me.

Look! — and that you may see, unloose the pitiless barriers — how the door has been made wet with my tears! Surely, when you stood stripped and ready for the scourge, and trembling, it was I that went to your mistress in your behalf. So, then. the act of grace which once availed even for you — ah, the outrage! — is the same act now to avail so little for me? Render the return I merit! 'Tis in your power to be grateful; why do you hinder me? The hours of the night are going; away with the bar from the door!

Away with it! — and so may you be forever lightened of your long chain, nor .have to drink for all time the waters of slavery! With heart of iron you listen as I vainly entreat, O janitor, and the door stands rigid with the unyielding oaken brace. It is towns beleaguered that look for protection to the closing of their gates; you are in the midst of peace, and why fear arms? What will you do to an enemy, who thus exclude a lover? The hours of the night are going; away with the bar from the door!

I come with no following of soldiers, and under arms; I were alone, were cruel Love not at my side. Him, even should I wish, I can nowhere dismiss; ere that, I shall be divided from my very self. And so, you see, it is Love, and moderate wine coursing through my temples, and a chaplet falling from my perfume-laden hair, that are my escort. Who would tremble before arms like these? Who would not go to face them? The hours of night are going; away with the bar from the door!

You are unyielding; or does sleep — and may it be the ruin of you! — give to the winds the lover's words your ears repulse? Yet at first, I remember, when I wished to escape your eye, you were wakeful up to the midnight stars. It may be that you, too, have a love, who is resting even now at your side — alas, how much better your lot than mine! Could I be only in such case, come hither, hard chains, to me! The hours of the night are going; away with the bar from the door!

Am I deceived, or did the post sound with the turning of the hinge, and was that the hoarse signal given by a shaken door? I am deceived — it was only the beating of a gusty wind upon the portal. Ah me, how far has that breeze borne away my hope! If thou rememberest well thy stolen Orithyia, Boreas, come hither, and beat down with thy blast these deaf doors! Through all the city there is silence, and, wet with the crystal dew, the hours of the night are passing; away with the bar from the door!

Rise I myself, better armed, with iron, and with the fire I carry in my torch, will soon assail your haughty dwelling! Night, and Love, and wine are no counsellors of self-restraint; the first knows naught of shame, and Liber and Love know naught of fear. All things have I tried, and have moved you neither by entreaty nor by threat, O harder yourself than your own doors! Not you were the one to be given ward of my beautiful lady-love's threshold; you were fit only to guard a gloomy dungeon.

Already rimy Lucifer is setting in motion his axles, and the bird of dawn is rousing wretched mortals to their tasks. But thou, O chaplet torn from my unhappy locks, lie thou there upon the unfeeling threshold the whole night through. Thou, when she sees thee east down there in the early morn, shalt be a witness to my mistress of the time I passed so wretchedly.

And you, despite what you are. farewell, and receive the honour of my parting word; O unyielding, undisgraced by the admission of the lover, fare you well! You, too, cruel posts with your rigid threshold, and you doors with your unfeeling beams, you fellow-slaves of him who guards you, fare you well!